Snapshot realities
by tonraq
Summary: A series of loosely-related drabbles, some slightly AU, covering such topics as the vizards, hollow Ichigo, and just what the characters may be doing off-screen during the Arrancar/Hueco Mundo arc.
1. Down with the Sickness

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Ichigo, hollow Ichigo: Down with the Sickness

_I'm not a disease_, it hissed, the words slithering and rasping against his mind. _You can't cure yourself of me: I'm here to stay._

"Like cancer," Ichigo muttered, and curled into a ball as laughter fell like tacks on a hardwood floor.


	2. Points of Authority

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Ulquiorra, Orihime: Points of Authority

"Before that, I just leave Las Noches to you for a while, Ulquiorra."

There was a splintering noise, and suddenly Ulquiorra was standing, surrounded by shards of reality.

"Yes sir," Ulquiorra said, and the portal slammed shut; Orihime was the only one left in the room with the espada. Her breath caught in her throat, as mixed feelings flooded her. Ulquiorra would never hurt her; he was under orders from Aizen - but no, that was over now; it had never been anything but a ploy within a ploy, and now Ulquiorra reigned over a Hueco Mundo where Orihime was the direct enemy.

She hoped he didn't see it that way.


	3. The Persistence of Memory

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Zaraki, Yachiru, Nel: The Persistence of Memory

Ichigo was gone in a flash, hurtling towards the throne room. Zaraki Kenpachi rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

There was a sudden, despairing howl; Kenpachi whirled around, zanpakutou at the ready, but Yachiru had already hopped down from her perch on the giant slab of rock and was crouching beside the wailing, green-haired espada child.

"Sssh, sssh, it'll be okay!" Yachiru was saying, hand on the other little girl's shoulder, but all the consolation in the world would not have left a dent in Nel's mask.

"It won't be," she sobbed. "It'th...Nel tried, Nel tried, but it'th all gone wrong! And now I've lotht my thanpakutou, I've lotht my Gamutha! Thee'th lotht, and Itthigo'th lotht, and Nnoitra...Nnoitra..."

Yachiru kept patting the other girl's head, silent and solemn.

Kenpachi sheathed his zanpakutou, suddenly glad that his world began (and would probably end) with Yachiru. He didn't want - didn't need - to know anything else.


	4. Carefree

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Matsumoto, Nanao, Gin: Carefree 

Matsumoto had gone back to Sereitei. The captains could do their flashy show of power; fight to the death; kill and be killed in the real world, but she was having none of it.

Officially, she was in Sereitei to help Nanao with coordinating the remaining Vices - and, in some cases, third seats - in keeping Soul Society running as well as it could under the circumstances. She could not have thought of a better person to run Sereitei in Yamamoto's absence than Ise Nanao. She followed Nanao as the Eighth Division vice barked orders and knit her brow; the days that followed passed under extreme tension and worry. Soul Society seemed empty without the Captains; everyone was a little more grim, a little more on edge. Nanao frowned; Matsumoto grit her teeth and grinned. Smiling in the face of adversity was hard, but she managed it, and even welcomed it.

Unofficially, Matsumoto Rangiku was in Sereitei because she was avoiding an easy smile.


	5. Thicker than Water

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Byakuya, Rukia, Hanatarou, Isane: Thicker than water

Byakuya stood, bleeding out from the wrist, from the legs, staining his clothing with a wet darkness.

"Nii-sama... your haori..."

Byakuya inclined his head curtly. "It is of no consequence. Come. We are to recconoitre with Captains Unohana, Mayuri, and Zaraki; we will go from there."

"But Nii-sama," Rukia said, standing up with Isane's help, "You're injured; at least let Kotetsu-fukutaicho heal you before we leave."

"That will not be necessary," Byakuya said, but Rukia could see that his cheeks were pallid. He turned to go, and crumpled.

"Nii-sama!" Rukia cried; she found herself at his side, holding his shoulders as Isane took Byakuya's wrist delicately and began to heal the slashed veins and tendons. A similar glow of kidou at Byakuya's feet lit Hanatarou's face as he concentrated on Byakuya's leg wounds.

"Rukia, you yourself are not completely healed," Byakuya rebuked, weakly. "Surely -"

"Surely I can wait until you are no longer in danger of dying, Nii-sama," Rukia said fiercely. "I've had worse injuries and I've managed to survive. What use is it if I am completely healed only to have you die? I won't let that happen!"

Byakuya closed his mouth, still managing to look regally offended and disapproving while flat on his back. "Rukia..."

"I'll live, Nii-sama," Rukia insisted. "I am stronger than I look."

Her words fell between them, and Rukia suddenly realized the double meaning within them. Byakuya's eyes widened, and Rukia saw the hurt in them and wanted to stop, but she needed him to understand.

"I'm not Hisana-nee-san," Rukia said quietly. "I am a shinigami, and I am older than she was, and I am... I am stronger than she was. I think she would be proud of me. And I think she would want things to be this way; she would not want you to die, when I could prevent it."

"Aa." Byakuya turned his head to the side, gazing out over Hueco Mundo. Rukia sat, and the dismissal was like a blow to the cheek. She sat in silence, holding back tears, as Isane and Hanatarou continued their healing; the bleeding had stopped and the bruising was fading.

Presently, the two healers had finished, and Byakuya stood up.

"Rukia." She rose and stood beside him, unsure. He spoke while staring haughtily forward, into the middle distance, but his words were for her. "You are not your sister. And so I do not hold you up against the example of your sister, as you both chose very different paths to take. I understand."

Byakuya turned to look down at her. "I understand, Rukia-nee. You fought an Espada and won; you do not have to prove yourself."

Rukia nodded wordlessly, and then stepped forward to hug Byakuya fiercely. The Captain of the Sixth Divison made an involuntary flailing gesture, but then, slowly, brought his arms around to embrace his sister.

* * *

A/N: My sincere apologies to those who have me on author alert for spamming your inboxes with my reformatting.


	6. Cheval, chevalerie

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Rukia, hollow Ichigo: Cheval, chevalerie

Rukia dreamt of horses; a whole herd of wild pintos, galloping across the plains of Soul Society, and her subconscious didn't bother to remind her that horses don't have afterlives, never mind in a Japanese afterlife. Each horse in the herd was a different colour, and they ran past her, so close she could have touched them, and Rukia delighted in the delicious feel of rushing wind and the sound of pounding hooves running through her veins.

After the herd had passed in a whirlwind, a lone, white horse came galloping towards her, following the others but - she knew in the dream, automatically - not one of them. It slowed as it came nearer; she fancied it recognized her.

She held out her hand; the horse approached at a walk, unafraid, and it was only when it was several feet away that Rukia realized how big it was. It towered over her with each deliberate step it took towards her, and she began to feel uneasy, menaced. Its eyes were golden.

Rukia withdrew her hand and stepped back; the backdrop of Soul Society was fading like a chalk picture in the rain, replaced with blue sky and sideways buildings, and the horse-that-was-not-a-horse was smiling cruelly down at her with Ichigo's face.

Rukia lay awake for several hours after that, counting Chappys and thinking.


	7. The greater part of valour

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Kon: The greater part of valour

Maybe Kon isn't the smartest modsoul out there. Maybe he isn't the most brave, or the most loyal, or even the most skilled fighter; it isn't like he can help it, they created him that way! So what if he's only pretty good at some things, and kinda terrible at others? Maybe there are other things that matter, and maybe, if he tries, he can be very good at some smaller, humbler things.

And so it is that Kon doesn't say a word when Yuzu whispers _Bostafu_, and hugs him closer in her sleep.


	8. A change in management

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Zabimaru, Renji: A Change in Management

"Who are you, stranger?" The stentorian challenge rang through the empty streets and deserted huts.

"Yeah, punk, what the fuck are you doing here?" A hissing snigger followed on its heels, and the figure in the middle of the road grinned, the perpetual moonlight glancing off of dead-white hair.

"I'm here to take over," it said, and all of a sudden, Zabimaru was flat on its back in the dust, a hand at the baboon's throat as the snake struggled to extract its head from the crushing weight of a pale foot. The figure grinned, exposing sharp canines, as the sword spirit struggled, and then began to dissolve.

"That'ss right," it hissed, its voice garbled. "We're gonna do the thingss he'ss only ever dreamed of!"

The sword was now completely gone, and the blanched figure stood in the middle of the street, staring at the moon. There were no stars. The figure raised its hand, until its open hand framed the moon, cradled it and rolled it around the palm of its hand. There was much to do. Oh yes, there was much to do.

_In the real world, Renji choked and spat as blood filled his lungs; Zabimaru fell, nothing more than a broken handle, at his side._

* * *

A/N: I have to say that this concept was prompted by artwork by Aido; if I could link to it, I would, but I have long since lost the url to the paintings. If anyone knows what I'm blabbering about and/or has such links, I would be grateful if you could send them my way, so I could credit properly.


	9. Alike Apart

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Ulquiorra, Orihime: Alike Apart

"Eat," he said, emotionless, commanding.

She shook her head. This was the one act of defiance, the one way she could still remain herself, the one way she could say _no, no, no,_ without the destruction of her friends, and Inoue Orihime was nothing if not true to herself. Her stomach growled, loudly.

"Eat," he said, emotionless, insisting.

And this Espada in front of her, who wore a mask of sorrow yet felt nothing, who was he to understand this? A command was a command was a command. As the days went by, she found herself peculiarly affected by his blankness, so like the white, unending walls of her prison. She could not...feel - although that may have been her growing weakness.

"Eat," he said, emotionless, pleading.

She could not be angry at him, just following orders. She could not be scared of the others, following Aizen's orders. She could not cry for her friends, who faded into memory more with each passing day.

"Eat," he said, emotionless, meaningless.

She choked as the food went down her throat; tried to cough it up even though it was like water to a woman in the desert. Her stomach cried out, and eventually won: she ate and, in that moment, looked up to meet his eyes, emotionless.


	10. Worth It

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Ichigo, Ulquiorra: Worth it

"And did you not expect this, Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Blades rang together, the sound echoing against the white walls of the throne room, and the question would have been a taunt if the Espada uttering it had injected a shred of emotion into his words.

Ichigo didn't answer, didn't pause to blink as he caught the orange of Inoue's hair out of the corner of his eyes. The Espada started to form a cero; Ichigo dodged and appeared behind him, zanpakutou already descending.

"Is that what makes you so angry? That we fooled you into coming here, leaving your family unprotected?" Ulquiorra moved easily away from the downstroke, and Ichigo pelted after him.

"Or perhaps" - Ichigo was forced to leap out of the way of a surprise backswing - "perhaps it has to do with the fact that Orihime Inoue now means absolutely nothing...and never did."

Ichigo faltered; Ulquiorra drove his blade through the boy's side and stepped back, almost casually.

"How pathetic," the Espada observed, "to find that the jewel you fought and bled for is but a piece of cheap glass."

Ichigo looked up, his mask halved, panting, a half-smile on his face as he shook his head. "You don't get it, do you?" He wiped blood from his face and stood up straight, holding Ulquiorra's gaze. "So she may mean nothing in the grand scheme of things...but we didn't come here with that in mind. I came; Rukia came, Renji, Chad, and Ishida came, because she is our friend. And she matters to us."

Ichigo met the blow as it came arcing down towards his head, and smiled, really smiled, at Ulquiorra over the crossed blades. "You probably can't understand it. I don't think Aizen created you to have nakama, or to think any other way." They broke apart and clashed again, sparks showering from the grating steel.

"But for us, Inoue is special. We would have come if it was any one of us who was taken. She will always matter to us, because we matter to her," Ichigo said firmly, "For someone you care about - no distance is too far, and no fight is too dangerous, because when you find that person again, it makes it all worth it."

Ulquiorra's brows lifted a fraction. Far below, Orihime's orange hair glinted in the light of the moon which spilled from the high windows of the throne room, the only spot of colour in an otherwise drab and boring place. She was the only being which did not conform to the rules which governed Hueco Mundo, who did not live the kill-or-be-killed existence of Arrancar, who did not fall under Aizen's jurisdiction, loyalty out of fear. Worth it? Ulquiorra had come out of the caja negacion, seemingly called forth by Aizen's voice, but the first person he had seen - the only person he had seen - had been Orihime. _Worth it_. The words rang through his mind.

"Perhaps," he allowed.


	11. Good Intentions

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Aizen, Orihime: Good Intentions

"You will no doubt be surprised to hear it, but I am not an evil man," Aizen said mildly, and blew the steam gently across the surface of his cup of tea.

Orihime, sitting across from him at the small table, said nothing, choosing instead to look steadfastly at her own cup of tea in front of her.

"Drink," Aizen encouraged, "it's a little cold in here, and the tea will do you good. Ulquiorra tells me your appetite has been off as of late, and I don't want you to get sick."

Orihime still sat, staring at the tea. The ceiling, so far above, was just a muddy white reflection on the surface of the liquid; they were alone in the room, and Aizen was right in that it was so cold, cold.

"Come, Orihime. I know you must think me a monster, because of my actions against your friends." Aizen sipped his tea, then returned the cup to the saucer with a clink. "It's okay to admit it; I would feel the same way were I in your position. But, in that hypothetical situation, I would also hear me out - so to speak."

The lord of Hueco Mundo leaned back in his chair as an Arrancar came in with steamed buns, and waited until it had exited the room before going on.

"You see, Orihime, what I want to tell you is that I mean you and your friends no harm in my quest."

Orihime whispered something to the tea, and Aizen paused in his reach for a bun. "Pardon?"

"I said, you nearly killed Kuchiki-san. You set her up to be executed, and when that didn't work, you put your hand through her." Orihime said, directing quiet vehemence at the saucer in front of her. "How can you say you mean us no harm?"

"Ah, my dear, no one is more sorry about that turn of events than I." Aizen put the bun on his plate and looked at Orihime quite seriously, almost in earnest. "You see, when I found that Kuchiki Rukia had the Hougyoku in her, I sent the order for her return to Soul Society immediately. Not for her to be executed, you understand, but to attempt to extract the Hougyoku from her while she was incarcerated."

Orihime said nothing, but the silence was heavy with timid disbelief.

"There was still time, you see, for the Hougyoku to be taken out of her soul without any damage to Kuchiki-san, but I was too late. The interference, however, of Urahara Kisuke made it impossible for this to happen: he thwarted me until he knew that the Hougyoku would be fully absorbed into Kuchiki-san's soul, thus making it impossible to extract without severe damage to Kuchiki-san."

"Why are you telling me this?" Orihime asked the buns, and her stomach growled a bit.

"I'm just trying to let you know that I bear neither you nor the rest of your nakama any ill will," Aizen said amiably. "Do have some tea."

"Aizen-san," Orihime said, and it was a query.

"Yes?"

"May I be excused?"

"Certainly," Aizen snapped his fingers; Ulquiorra appeared at his elbow. "Escort Inoue-chan to her quarters. And bring some buns with her for later."

Ulquiorra complied; they were at the door when Orihime stopped and turned. "Aizen-san?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I am not Hinamori-san," her eyes met his, briefly.

Aizen gave an easy smile. "Of course not."

The two exited the room and Aizen raised his tea to his lips. "Not yet, anyway," he murmured, and drank the rest of the cup.


	12. A River in Egypt

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Shinji: A River in Egypt

Sometimes, Hirako listens to it. Usually when he's in a bad mood, or depressed, or reminded of what could have been if not for - but then the words come, ugly and hateful, and he cannot block them out.

He'd mastered his hollow long ago; nightmares of blowing sands and ancient words sometimes flood through his brain like a river breaking its banks. There is no laughter, there is no defiance, there are no insults. Just an inexorable march of words, words, words, stentorian and unwavering in their constant hatred, their absolute certainty. The darkness rises, and Hirako knows only too well the feeling of being submerged, of losing his footing, of nearly abandoning himself to the terrible, frigid current.

Hirako himself is confident, a man of easy power and dangerous volition, of carefree camaraderie and questionable alliance. He knows that Hiyori and the others are in awe of his control, secretly proud of his power. They don't know how close the words sometimes come to knocking down the walls and bursting the chains, how fast they can erode the walls, how bit by bit his control can crumble under the onslaught of those terrible, awe-ful words.

The worst thing, however, is the fact that, in the primordial river of his own mind, the only monster lurking within the murky depths is himself.


	13. Nightmares

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Rukia, hollow Ichigo: Nightmares

She could hear the floorboards creak as it got out of bed, padding its way around the room; she could see its shadow, distorted and faint by the light of the streetlamp outside, bob and weave and grow bigger, bigger, closer, closer, in the crack of light which ran up the wall of the inside of the cupboard.

She'd had nightmares before this one; old and half-forgotten, lurking in the dark corners of the streets of Rukongai, hiding under the stately beds of the Kuchiki mansion, jumping out at her from the buildings of Karakura.

_Perhaps,_ she thought deliriously, mistakenly, _perhaps if I am very quiet, it will go away_.

But the crack of light vanished; fingers dug and breath hissed hot on her neck and Rukia cried out as it bit down, smiling viciously against her skin.


	14. Beginnings

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Zangetsu, Shirayuki: Beginnings

It rained, and the solitary figure watched, resigned, as puddles formed within each indentation on the concrete surface. The damp from the last time had hardly dried, but that really didn't matter now, he supposed, and stifled a sneeze. His nose was beginning to drip constantly from the chill in the air. It was unbecoming for a being of his nature.

Still, the rain was soothing, and he appreciated how it gave him some semblance of form. He was still hazy around the edges, after all, as coming in to being is a process. Often on sunny days, the wind blew and he existed only as a shred of energy, mirrored in glass and shadowed on concrete. So he didn't mind the rain - that much.

It shocked him when the snow came; drove him into hiding with its alien hardness, all ice and sharp edges, slippery and jagged and beautiful. He had never seen anything like it; it was wrong, it should not be. _She_ should not be...at least not where_ he_ was.

He suffered the cold in wary silence as she took over his world, working her white magic and often stumbling over herself, as if caught on the verge of springing into a dance. When she turned and smiled directly at him, however, he knew he was lost. He came out into the open, where the wind knifed through him and sent the snow whirling around her in a dance of drifting diamonds, and perhaps the air was not quite so cold now that she was offering him her hand, and he was taking it, and they were moving together through the first few, halting steps of a minuet.


	15. Freaky

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers. **This chapter especially is based off of the most recent developments in the manga. You have been warned.**

* * *

Hiyori, (Mayuri, Kisuke, Shinji): Freaky

Kurotsuchi Mayuri was a freak. Hiyori knew this, and she wasn't just being jealous, because jealousy didn't factor into the equation at all, because hell, she didn't even like her jackass captain anyways. Didn't stop Mayuri from being a freaky-deaky jerk all the time. Who was he to lecture people on being polite to him when he himself was a criminal?

It got on Hiyori's nerves; she was not one to stand on ceremony, and actually rather enjoyed stomping on it gleefully. Prodding Mayuri into fits of annoyance was fun, but often she wondered how far she could go before he snapped. Maybe that was why she did it. Once he really got mad and did something, maybe they'd kick him out, and kick out stupid Kisuke with him.

Mayuri made her nervous, to tell the truth, not that she would. He was utterly dedicated to whatever scheme he and Kisuke were cooking up, and Hiyori knew that the freaky cone-head practised with his zanpakutou almost tirelessly. It drove her screaming and yelling to Shinji, who would spar with her for a bit before she got mad at him for going easy on her and consequently resorted to kicking the long-haired captain in the shins. But Mayuri kept her on her toes, not that she would admit it. She had to always be better than him. Always. His raw intent became clearer by the day: he wanted to be Vice. He wanted to be Captain, but Vice was a step towards that, and Vices changed more frequently than Captains, and Hiyori knew it.

It was in his eyes. Hiyori looked at him and saw all of her own nastiness and ambition reflected back at her, with a heaping helping of cold-blooded ruthlessness. It was what she saw when she looked into Shinji's eyes, but where the one was a comforting reminder of grim camaraderie, Mayuri's made her shudder and think a _there-but-for-the-grace-of-God_. Because, much as she hated to admit it, Hiyori knew they were alike, in personality and purpose. She could understand him.

Not like Kisuke, the smug bastard; she couldn't figure him for shit. He pretended to be nice, but Hiyori was having none of it. He could take his niceness and shove it where the sun don't shine. He was a smiling fool, and besides, Shinji didn't like him either. He smiled and smiled and was so affable and friendly and amiable and...and..._likeable_. It drove Hiyori nuts, because she was never sure whether he meant it or not. Kisuke always acted like he meant it, sure, but there's only so nice a guy can be, especially when he's dealing with Hiyori on a daily basis, and if he didn't snap at her at least once after an afternoon of working in close contact, there was definitely something up.

Sinister, she could handle. Shinji was all sorts of sinister, and that was okay, because at least he was honest about it. Hiyori could go up and tell him that he was a bloodsucking fiend with the shriveled heart of a perverted child molester, and he'd grin that lean grin of his and admit that she was on to him, and then she'd beat him for being so damn creepy. Urahara was _nice._ And didn't make dirty jokes. And was always so goddamn smug and knowledgeable. It got under her skin, and not in a good way. Captains were secretive to a certain extent, and maybe she'd been spoiled by Hikifune-san, but it had been five years, and Hiyori still knew next to nothing about Kisuke.

And that freaked her out more than anything Mayuri had going.


	16. Fade to Black

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers. **The fic is rated M for several reasons, and this is one of them.**

* * *

Hollow Ichigo/Ichigo: Fade to Black

Razor smiles and mangled whispers haunt his dreams; lips bruise against his own, and spidery hands make their way inside his shirt, his jeans, as he struggles and shouts for Zangetsu, Zangetsu...

"Not so powerful now, eh, King?" It says harshly, triumphantly and there's blinding pain and _oh God the humiliation, why won't this stop, where is Zangetsu, how did this even happen?_

"No use crying about it, King," it bares its teeth and he can only make whimpers of pain in reply; there's a black sword through his palm and through the other a white. _Zangetsu, Zangetsu, there you are, why does it hurt when you are mine?_

He sobs and chokes; the hands on him are iron, digging into his flesh as the blood tickles and trickles down his wrists to the concrete, rough against his back with every shove and thrust.

Shame sears his face, coils in his gut like a snake, rises in his throat like bile, becomes his world in between the strings of laughter and the scrapes of pain.


	17. Female Bonding

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Yadoumaru Lisa: Female bonding

Yadoumaru Lisa liked her hollow.

Only Kensei knew, and it was a secret he would take with him to the grave for reasons he refused to really ever think about but did have something to do with tentacles and a very complicated-looking knot. Lisa could be very persuasive, in her own way, and never took no for an answer.

Yadoumaru Lisa's hollow hated her.

That was okay, though. Many people disliked Lisa for various reasons, but given enough time, Lisa was quite sure that they would become fast friends. She'd even offered to share her porn stash, but the hollow had sulked in the corner of her inner world until Lisa had to leave for an emergency meeting, and her hollow had avoided the matter ever since.

Yadoumaru Lisa had been the quickest to defeat her hollow.

Lisa suspected that this was why the thing hated her in the special way that it did: it felt outclassed. Lisa understood completely, and was very sympathetic; this didn't manage to breach any gaps, although the hollow had called her quite a few nasty names that Lisa was certain had come from her own knowledge.

"Cooperation; that's what this is about," she coaxed her hollow, who popped its head around from the trunk of a tree and gave a half-hearted snarl. She was wearing it down; she could tell. "Perhaps you would enjoy the newest volume of _Girls, Gams, and Guns_?"

"For the last time, fuck off!" The hollow whined. "And make her stop laughing at me."

Lisa turned and saw her zanpakutou spirit sitting and howling in amusement several feet behind her. Sighing, she got up and thwacked the mirthful spirit with the pornographic magazine she had been trying to tempt her hollow with. "You're not helping, you know."

"I know," the spirit hiccupped.

"Well, will you please go elsewhere, if you can't be quiet? I'm trying to bond with my hollow."

The spirit broke out into fresh peals of laughter. "Ohhhh yes. Well, excuse me, then; I'll leave you two alone to your bondage." She disappeared, and Lisa whipped around to face her hollow, who cowered.

"Just because you're bone-white doesn't mean you have to be such a vanilla," Lisa snapped, then regained her composure and set about to try and entice her hollow once more.


	18. Bugger All

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

Shinji, Hiyori, Mashiro, Kensei: Bugger all

_Well,_ thought Shinji, Hiyori under his arm, sword out to guard against the next blow, _the look suits her._

The Being Formerly Known As Mashiro sent a spinning kick at Love, and Shinji pondered the irony of Love staring into a heart-shaped hollow mask before dodging yet another blow from what had been the captain of the Ninth.

_Whatever the hell is going on, I'll bet that punk Urahara is up to his eyeballs in it,_ Shinji thought sourly, and ignored Hiyori's fists and feet demanding that she be put down, immediately.


	19. Restless Will

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Ichigo, hollow!Ichigo: Restless will

The hollow was never quiet, never calm, never passive, never just content to sit and contain the burning, frenzied energy within it. It moved constantly; even when it stood to taunt him, its muscles were taut, as if it were about to spring back into action (which it inevitably did).

Ichigo hated it. The constant motion, the ever-moving presence in his mind, the never-ending scraping of another consciousness against his own, the reminder that was always _there_ - he would never be alone in his own mind again.


	20. Bloody Revenge

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Zaraki, Yachiru, Neliel: Bloody Vengeance

And it fills his mouth and the tang is sweet, copperwater, warm. Makes for a hell of a good spit, and that's what he does, then grins; the wounds crack more, but really, that's not the point. The point is that his blade is up and before him, humming with an energy just out of his hearing, and his opponent is staring at him across the field with fire and hatred and even a little contempt; Zaraki bares his teeth in an extension of his grin, feral, beckoning.

"You gonna stand there all day?" He challenges, and it's amusing, fun; he can dimly hear Yachiru's giggles and decides right there and then that he'll give her a good show, keep her talking about it for weeks.

His enemy doesn't deign to answer, instead lowering her weapon to a fighting pose, eyes burning; Zaraki spits once more and charges. His blow is parried - just - and he bears down, until his blade nearly touches her skull; she rears back and then falls against his blade once more. This time he is the one driven a step back, but he doesn't lose the grin; she's powerful, and he loves it.

"You killed him," she grinds out, her green eyes flashing. "I will make you pay for that."

"Like hell you will," Zaraki grunts, then rips off his eyepatch; the power blast sends her tumbling back across the hard desert sands, and he gives immediate chase. "You should be thanking me, woman."

"He was mine," she spits sand and whirls to meet his blow, kicking out and connecting solidly with Zaraki's midsection; the captain of the eleventh goes flying backwards and rolls to his feet to meet her headlong rush just in time. "He was mine," she says fiercely, and drives her spear towards him, crashing against his blade with inexorable force. "You stole that victory from me, that one satisfaction, you - "

"Shut up," Zaraki instructs, then whirls suddenly to come at her from the side. She blocks him, barely. "He's dead; shouldn't matter who killed him."

"You have no honour," she snarls, and his side is torn open by a reverse sweep from her spear as his zanpakutou slides along the staff, expertly deflected.

"And you're an espada," he says, darkly amused as she dances away to come at him from a different angle. "Or used to be. Don't see the problem here." He's bleeding now from the face and side; she barely has a mark on her. Previous battle must have tired him out more than the girl could fix; he cracked his neck. "Speaking of honour, shouldn't you be helpin' yer little friend?"

She hesitates, still on guard, still wary, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Thought you owed him a debt or somethin'. Ichigo. Shouldn't you be off fightin' whoever he's fightin'? No sense in getting the crap beaten outta ya now."

"I - "

"Green-chan!" Yachiru chooses this moment to spring from hiding towards the woman, who instinctively lashes out at the attack from behind. Yachiru is not bothered by this, instead executing a neat flip in the air to avoid the spear and landing square on the woman's goatish back. "Let's find Ichigo together! Don't mind Ken-chan; he just likes fighting. You should find him other people to fight!"

"I - " the woman bows her head, obviously reluctant to do anything with a child on her back; Kenpachi leans on his sword, amused. "Of course. Ichigo remains the priority at this moment in time."

Yachiru immediately begins to cheer; the woman ignores the incessant "hooray"s and locks eyes with Zaraki, a promise within them. "Another time, shinigami. I will exact my due."

"Look forward to it," Zaraki says nonchalantly, though he is a little disappointed the fight is over. The promise of a later engagement brightens him up, however, and he sheaths his sword. "Oi, Yachiru, which way?"


	21. Interlude

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

Zaraki, Yachiru, Nemu: Interlude

"Now what, Ken-chan?"

"Whattaya think, brat?"

Zaraki turned on his heel, knowing Yachiru would leap to his shoulder, and began stalking towards the main building, gaining speed until he was flash-stepping. He didn't really have a plan - not that he ever did - but he had a vague notion of finding Kuchiki-hime and the freak and finding a way out to the real fight.

"And Braid-taichou, too," Yachiru reminded him in between giggles as she clutched his captain's cloak for dear life.

"She's probably left already. Woman can smell when blood's about to be spilled," he replied, skidding to a halt on a marble rooftop. The place was moderately destroyed, and he sniffed. There was someone -

"Zaraki-taichou." Nemu was standing behind him, emotionless.

Zaraki grunted a reply and sheathed his zanpakutou. Stupid girl had messed-up reiatsu; more foe than friend. He wondered if the freak had engineered her specifically that way. She was still staring; Yachiru had scampered off somewhere, and he couldn't feel any other reiatsu around.

"What is it, fukutaichou?"

"It seems we are trapped here, Zaraki-taichou," the lieutenant said coolly. "Mayuri-sama is already working on a portal to get us out, with the assistance of Kuchiki-taichou. They are over on the north side of Las Noches, should you want to assist them."

"Che," Zaraki said. He had opinions on technology. "Couldn't catch me dead working with those stuck-up asses." On the other hand, that probably explained where Yachiru had disappeared to. She seemed to have a built-in sensor for pissing off Byakuya, and Zaraki really didn't mind that.

"Very well. I bring your message back to Mayuri-sama." Nemu executed a short bow and turned to go, but stopped at Zaraki's voice.

"Why do you call him that?" The captain of the eleventh was looking at Nemu with a distinctly unimpressed gaze.

"Because he is my master," Nemu said simply.

"Oh yeah?"

"He made me, Zaraki-taichou. He could unmake me just as simply. Please. I must go."

"So you're scared of him?"

"No." Nemu was still politely distant, as if merely discussing the weather.

"Then what?" Zaraki growled, irritated.

"I respect Mayuri-sama as my creator. He has given me life, and he has saved me from death several times now. I am indebted to him."

"You're a fool and a coward," Zaraki said, looking away over the city. "Just 'cause he made you doesn't mean you asked for a lifetime of servitude, woman."

Nemu said nothing. A hole opened up in the sky; an assembly of shinigami and arrancar stood over a tiny town, and Yachiru collided with Zaraki with enough force to knock over a pair of oxen.

"Kenchankenchankenchaaan! Time to go!" She squealed, and climbed up his back to perch on his shoulder.

"Think about it," Zaraki told Nemu, and then flash-stepped away.


	22. How it's gonna be

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Ichigo, hollow Ichigo, Zangetsu: How it's gonna be

The hollow sneered. _You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait, you don't, because she's dead. So sorry, Ichigo._

Ichigo continued to yell profanities, and the hollow grinned maliciously, perfectly content to waste time inside the mind as outside, in the real world, bone grew and armour formed. Really, how did the stupid kid think he was going to win the fight all on his own? He didn't have it in him to kill; bloodshed, sure, but killing was beyond his pathetic scope. Not anymore, though; that was in the process of getting fixed.

"Pay attention to me, you bastard!"

_Why?_ The hollow asked, nonchalant and smug.

"I'm dying out there and all you can do is - "

_We're dying, you idiot. You can't handle your own powers! I said I'd take the next chance you gave me to take over, so sit back and enjoy the ride,_ the hollow said derisively, _because that's all you're gonna do for the rest of your life. _

"No! I won't let you!"

_You already have,_ the hollow smirked, and Ichigo suddenly lost sight of it, a moment before something solid slammed through his gut. A grinning mirror-image bore down on him, until at last he fell to his knees, slipping in the blood that so rapidly pooled around him.

_Don't worry, I'll kill the green-eyed Espada for you. As a favour,_ it cackled, and Ichigo choked wetly, vision blurring. The hollow said something else, but he could no longer hear it, could no longer see it, could no longer _feel_ ...

Zangetsu.

Rippling darkness enveloped him.


	23. Exequias

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Zaraki, Yachiru: Exequias

They've been in this building for quite some time. Yachiru seems unconcerned; Zaraki got irritable when the bloodstains on the walls became familiar. They'd been down each corridor at least five times, it seems, and the really annoying part is that there were only arrancar in them the first time. He's trying to convince Yachiru to take them somewhere else, but she is insistent.

"Ken-chan, just around this corner! I just know it! Whee, I like this room!"

Zaraki hops from giant cylinder to giant cylinder, noting the damage once again. Someone had come and gone, taking the fun with them; there's the mark of what might have been a giant, bloodstained corpse, but drag marks lead off to the side, signs of removal. Zaraki abruptly changes course, following the trail. Yachiru pouts and complains, but when Zaraki comes to a door they'd not seen before, she is all smiles again.

"Ken-chan is so smart!" She claps her hands, and he rolls his shoulders a bit before kicking the door in.

The room beyond is dark, but Kenpachi strides forward without hesitation, the darkness enveloping himself and the tiny figure on his shoulder; he pushes his reiatsu before him. He doesn't want to bother with weaklings: some of the arrancar in the previous hallways hadn't even been able to stand under the pressure. Waste of time.

"It's dark in here, Ken-chan," Yachiru whispers noisily, and her voice bounces around the room; Zaraki senses that it is vast, tall as well as wide, and when his eyes have adjusted completely, he surveys it in the light of the open door.

There are bones. And bones. And bones. And bones. A pit opens up in the floor several feet in front of them, and filling it are the corpses of countless arrancar. There are tentacles, there are ripped jackets and bloodied flesh, there are masks tossed every which way, limbs at strange angles, bodies truncated with no attachments at all. Some are strangely wrong, in a way that would unsettle most, but Zaraki sees them for what they are. Failed experiments. Failed underlings. Failed subordinates. He catches a glimpse of a moth-like wing.

"Ooooh," Yachiru giggles at the sight, and wonder flares dimly in the back of Zaraki's mind, if only for a brief moment: there and gone again, as are most of his observations about Yachiru's behaviour. "Who put all of these here, Ken-chan?"

"Dunno," he says truthfully and then, more honestly still, "che, boring. Let's get out of here and find some live ones."


	24. Triumph, part one

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Orihime Inoue: Triumph - Part One

"Get out of here!" It snarls at her, and Orihime does as it tells her, turning and fleeing the room, white skirts in a white hall, blood crimson on her white hands. She'd held him, for just a moment, before Kurosaki-kun - no, not Kurosaki-kun, Kurosaki-kun would _never_ - but it had all been in vain; it had been over too quickly for her fairies to even materialize, and now she looked over her shoulder, sure she was being pursued by a demon greater than the one who had kept her captive for so long.

_Ulquiorra..._

She ran blindly, and nearly fell as someone caught hold of her wrist; she struck out, but strong hands held her arms. "Inoue! Inoue!" They had been calling her for some time now. Chad relaxed his grip as she calmed; Ishida fussed in horror over her bloodstained hands, and Kuchiki-san ...

Orihime could tell that Kuchiki-san knew. The other woman gave her a measured glance, and Orihime felt the tears start again. "I couldn't save him, Kuchiki-san," she whispered, voice choked.

"Kurosaki!?" Ishida was alarmed, but Rukia cut him down with a glance.

"No. I understand, Inoue," she said quietly. "Renji, Chad, and Ishida will take you home."

Ishida and Chad started at this, beginning to exclaim, but Renji silenced them. He knew.

"I will go on ahead," Rukia continued quietly.

"Thank you," Orihime whispered, feeling wretched. "And ... Kuchiki-san ... I am so sorry." She meant it.

"It's okay, Inoue." Rukia said, a small smile on her face. "You will be home soon."

They parted ways.


	25. Triumph, part two

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Warning: Heavy manga spoilers.

* * *

Rukia, hollow!Ichigo: Triumph - Part Two

When it looks at her, she can hardly recognize him within the beast, its bloodstained mouth grinning as it wipes the gore off its hands, leaving wide red smears on its armour of white bone. The colour on it is obscene, marring and jolting and grating as its reiatsu scrapes like a saw against a steel corner.

"Na, Rukia!" It calls, triumphant, stepping over the broken body of the espada at its feet, "We've won!"

She can't look it in the eye. It stares out at her from the mask, eyes pupilless and burning, and she knows that it is grinning, though she can't see it. The stripes on its mask match the bloody trails on the rest of it. She cannot see the fallen espada's face: bone shatters under the monster's feet as it slowly advances.

"Why so sad, Rukia?" Its voice slithers, and is less of a question than a taunt. It already knows the answer. She composes her face, steeling her soul in preparation, a luxury which she had not been afforded before. _Not a third time,_ something within her begs, but she hardens her heart, sweeps it aside. Kuchikis do not beg. She would make her brother proud.

"Rukia," there is a hungry smile in its voice, and it is now several metres away, still advancing across the echoing throne room. She drops into a fighting stance.


	26. Unrequited

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach

* * *

Ichigo, hollow Ichigo, (Rukia): Unrequited

"I don't believe this," Ichigo said slowly, between pants, and shook his head as blood trickled down into his eyes. "You're really -"

"Fuck off," the hollow snarled, and charged, bringing his sword up sharply to clang against Ichigo's downstroke. Ichigo parried easily, planted a foot in the hollow's chest, and thrust it back to slam against the concrete of the skyscrapers. Then he was gone, blurring back into existence to alight further down the building, a light smile threatening to turn into a smirk.

"See how easily I did that?" He called out to his hollow, which was levering itself up using the white Zangetsu. "Hey, hollow, you should never have let me find out! You don't have a chance at defeating me any longer, now that I know - "

"Damn it! Shut up!" The hollow said, its face contorted with rage. This was not how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be the one taunting, provoking Ichigo to a rage, making him lose control ... things were reversed, and it was finding that it really didn't like it at all. "One more word, Ichigo, and - "

"And what?" Ichigo prodded, triumph burning in his eyes. The hollow didn't answer, and Ichigo smiled.

"You also possess the same weakness that I have now," the hollow ground out, its distorted voice malicious and bitter. "Never forget that, _King_" - it spat the word out - "the moment you let go, the moment you let control slip, even for one second, I'll be there to exploit it."

Ichigo remained smiling, knowing it infuriated the hollow. "I may have the same weakness," he replied, "but I can do something about it, at least."

"Not that you ever will," the taunting tone was back.

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't," Ichigo said, completely serious now. "But I can touch her. Something that I will never, ever allow you to do."

He blurred, and vanished; somewhere in the outside world, Ichigo blinked and steadied Zangetsu, ready to face his next opponent. Inside, the hollow sheathed its sword and sat, as Zangetsu rose behind him to watch, silently.

"Just wait," it said, the garbled syllables laden with hatred. "Just wait."


End file.
